Nerdy British researcher meets American college student

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Nerdy British researcher meets American college student

Day One:

“Little sister, you need to get laid.” Fleur Mantell looked at her sister Brie in the mirror as she finished applying her makeup and fixing her hair. “You’ve been eighteen for six months and not once have I come home to find a man in your bed. “Or a woman either for that matter; how are you supposed to find your sexual identity if you don’t even try?”

Brie shook her head at her sister’s lack of understanding. “And when do I have time to even go looking for either? I work at the bookstore from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon three days out of the week, and until noon two days out of the week. From three to seven I have two classes, and on the other two I have classes from two until ten. On the weekend I have to study for my classes and get my homework done. So tell me oh all-knowing older sister of mine, when do I have time? You on the other hand have your job from eight to four, you come home, change clothes and then you’re out the door. On weekends, you spend about two hours cleaning this place up then you spend the evenings with your friends either out clubbing or going off doing whatever you feel like doing. I think you’ve forgotten how hard college can be. I’ll have time for all that other stuff when I can be like you and play as hard as I work.”

Brie didn’t add that it wouldn’t matter anyway. When she was out in the world, she never met anyone who showed the least bit of interest in her anyway. Oh she had attracted a couple guys but it died as soon as they met her smart, beautiful and well-built older sister. It had been the same way back home for as long as she could remember. None of the guys she had known there had been interested in her beyond a way to meet her sisters Lila and Helena. What women she met wanted to meet her brothers Andre and Marcel.

Why her parents had given all their kids French names was beyond her, not one of them had French blood in them, at least not as far as her grandfather had found in his time of doing genealogy research for the last ten years. The only off blood he had found was on her mother’s side and that was some Gypsy blood by the name of Esmeralda Delacourt. She had married an related Englishman about three hundred years ago, and the only information in the church records her grandfather had found was a marriage record listing Esmeralda as being Gypsy. A combination of English, Scottish, German yes, but not a damn drop of French. Personally Brie was pretty sure there was some Nordic blood in them as well because she, like her dad were built and looked more like pictures of ancient Vikings then they did the other races. They both shared the almost white blonde hair, the bright blue eyes and fuller bodies; yes definitely more Viking then the Nordic gods and goddesses running around these days.

So who the hell was her sister kidding, her getting laid was about as likely as the earth going nova and crashing into the sun. Leaving Fleur to get dressed to go out, she went to her room, stopping on the way in the kitchen for her usual bowl of salad and a diet soda. She lived on salad and diet soda. Not only because it was cheap but because she had learned that if she had a whole pizza or a box of deep fried chicken anywhere when she was alone, she ate the whole damn thing. Then she would end up spending the rest of the night feeling like hell and throwing up all she ate. Salad and the soda was all her mind would let her keep down no matter how she tried.

Forcing herself to study, she didn’t hear when Fleur left and finally near one in the morning, she gave up to sleep not coming as close to what she had planned to get done at all.

As usual her dreams were of what she couldn’t have. Men who wanted her not her sisters, over and over they danced through her dreams, and when she woke, she felt like she hadn’t slept at all. It didn’t help that she had some kind of weight over her mid-section and another on her leg. There was also a warm breeze blowing on her cheek and she had no idea where the hell it was coming from. Trying to sit up the weight on her body tightened and she turned her face just enough to see dark hair, a face with overnight stubble on his chin and a thin moustache that bent down on both sides of interesting lips. Who was the fucking jerk in her bed? Even as she moved out from under his arm she had an idea and she was going to kill her sister if Fleur had done what she thought she had.

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